


Ashes

by EverytimeIDoSomethingStupid (kingkongkitty)



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Death, Fire, M/M, Multi, Swearing, hatsome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 11:56:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3487397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingkongkitty/pseuds/EverytimeIDoSomethingStupid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From OTP Prompts: Imagine person A was involved in some sort of disastrous incident and declared dead. Person B tried to convince themself that there was a chance they survived, but couldn’t believe it even for a minute. Eventually a memorial service is held…and at the very end, person A shows up.<br/>Bonus points if they weren’t a couple yet and person B confessed to much deeper feelings in their speech than they had ever admitted to before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm trying to get in the swing of writing more regularly again. Got something you want written? Drop me a comment!

“Do you reckon Smith’s having a good time?” Ross glanced over at Trott, sprawled across the burgundy sofa and almost laying on him, his head resting on a cushion by his knee. 

“Probably. God knows what he likes about being covered in mud and shot at though.” Ross smiled ruefully at the thought. The one time he’d gone airsofting with Smith he’d come back covered in bruises, aching and damp to his bones.

“He reckoned it wouldn’t be so muddy this time. Apparently he’s going further east. Near London? They’ve had almost no rain so far this year.”

“Mmmm.” Ross hummed, a non-committal sound. “That’s what he said that last time we went camping.”

Chris grinned over at him affectionately. “Wasn’t that the one where it rained loads?”

Ross smiled, a laugh forcing its way out as he cast his mind back to the disastrous camping trip. “The entire tent flooded! It was like an indoor swimming pool.”

“A portable pool you say? Nilesy would be proud.” Chris snorted, his grin wide across his face. Ross laughed with him, grinning as he yawned, stretching his arms out above his head with a sigh.

“I didn’t know about you mate, but I’m shattered.” 

Chris smiled and grabbed the remote from the floor. “Maybe stick the news on, then go to bed?”

“Go on then, mate.” He flicked channels, stopping just as the news jingle crackled through the speaker. ‘BREAKING NEWS’ flashed across the screen as a catchy jingle played, completely at odds with the news about to be disclosed to the public.

“A forest fire had broken out in Surrey, near Wisley. A popular airsofting tournament was taking place in the wood in which the fire is believed to have started. It is unknown as yet if the fire was intentionally started. It is believed the fire began to spread due to a drought in this area of the country. We go now to our reporter, Jenny Taylor, who is on the scene.”

The camera cut to an attractive woman standing on a hill, the dark night illuminated from behind by a large, orange glow seeming to fill a valley. It quickly appeared that that was the fire. “Fucking hell.” Ross’ voice broke the silence that had settled in the room. 

The woman on the screen looked up, evidently getting a message, then began to talk into the camera, her large green eyes solemn as she broke the news to the two men perched on the edge of a scruffy sofa, praying with all their might for some good news.

“Thank you, Coleen. It appears that very few people so far have managed to escape the blaze. Firefighters are on the scene, attempting to control the spread. Search and rescue teams have been brought in, but many fear the rescue effort will be pointless.”

Chris sat frozen, staring at the screen as his mind processed this information. Ross glanced over at him, placing one hand on his shoulder, his voice shaking. “Where did you say Smith was?”

“Oh fuck… fuck… FUCK! Ross, ring him now.”

Ross scrambled for his phone, keying Smith’s number in as quickly as his shaking hands would allow. His mind spiraled with worry as the phone rang, each buzz passing by in what seemed like hours. Smith’s bright voice rang through the phone and Ross sighed in relief. “Thanks, mate. Just leave me a message and I’ll get back to you-”

Ross hung up promptly, immediately keying in the number again. He tried three more times before giving up. “He’s not picking up.”

“Try again.” Chris grabbed the phone, re-ringing the same number repeatedly, unable to give up even for a second. He must have rung fifty times.

Ross curled up on himself, “Oh no. Please... No.... Nonononono. This cannot be happening.”

“Ross! Calm! Grab your phone and some clothes.” Chris grabbed his shoulders, shaking him out of his tears.

“Why?” Ross’ speech was slurred, his eyes red, his cheeks wet.

Chris was determined. They were not giving up that easily. “We’re driving up to Surrey.” 

\---

Smith crawled through the undergrowth commando style, his gun above his head. Behind him he could hear a rustling. Someone on his team hopefully, but he could probably deal with an opponent at the minute. He was dusty and hot, his mouth dry and his hair had gone almost blonde with the sunbaked dirt caked into it. It was more like airsofting in Morocco that England, where rain soaked overalls and muddy smiles were the norm.

The crackling sound got louder and Smith got warmer. He could smell smoke and hear yells. Maybe someone had bought out the smoke grenades? He stood, gun at the ready and glanced back, staring at shock down the valley. The green canopy was flaming, white smoke rising in giant plumes. Smith stood rooted in shock, when he realized the blaze was heading his way. Tearing his eyes away from the encroaching mass of orange and red he ran, directly uphill, hopefully towards a river. There’d had been one marked on the map they’d glanced at this morning.

Even as he ran the flames got closer, fanning at his ankles. Smith dropped his gun and began to tear his overalls off, yanking his jacket of as he sprinted away. He heard a metallic ping as he pulled desperately at his clothes. Must’ve been his dog tags, but he pushed the thought out of his mind, the animalistic sense of survival too strong to worry about trinkets. 

The fire was still gaining on him, heating the back of his shoes, the smoke invading his senses. His mind grew foggy as his eyes burned and his throat stung. Smith could hear his breathing getting wheezier as he ran until eventually the smoke overtook him and he collapsed face down into mud, the smoke still swirling around him.

As the heat grew almost unbearable, his last thoughts were of Chris, how his ability to pull faces was not to be scoffed at, and of Ross, his sea glass eyes sparkling as he presented him with a pair of metal tags.

\---

“Jesus…” The entire valley was blackened, thin streaks of upright charcoal sticks where trees once were. The neon dots of search and rescue dotted the grey swath of burnt undergrowth. There was a tent by Saint John’s Ambulance, several news vans and a catering cart. A few meters away there was tent set up where the bodies were being laid to rest. People were constantly moving in and out, identifying bodies in silence, leaving again as tears streaked their faces. Smith’s body hadn’t been found yet, or at least one recognizable as Smith. 

Only three people had escaped the blaze. Three people from over a hundred. The source of the fire had yet to be identified, but the main consensus was accidental. The drought combined with the smoke grenades generally used was a sure fire recipe for disaster. An inquiry was taking place into the health and safety standards.

That’s what people told them. Ross didn’t care. Enquiries and causes weren’t going to bring Smith back. That explosive character he’d grown to love wasn’t going to magically come back if someone was arrested. Besides him, Chris stood silent, yet more tears running from his chin.

As they watched, a sudden flurry of neon dots caught their attention. A small gathering of yellow and orange gathered around something, and then began moving swiftly down the valley, towards Trott and Ross. As they got closer they could hear the shouts. “We’ve got someone! They’re alive!”

Instantly the almost unused medical aid tent became animated. The two men let themselves hope as they saw the large body. Few men were as tall as Smith. The body came past, and all of a sudden hope gave out. This man had pale hair and a burgundy t-shirt. Smith never went out in anything other than full camo.

Later that day, Ross and Trott went out in search and rescue. They began walking up the valley, following a trail covered in ash, charcoal and fallen branches. There was nothing to see, almost no one had been up in the valley when the fire begun. They were each silent, wrapped up in their own thoughts as they patrolled the valley. 

Something glimmered in the corner of his eye, and Chris turned towards it. He bent down, brushing ash from a small metal thing. His heart tightened as he realized what it was. “Ross, mate…”

Ross came over, and Chris silently placed the dog tags in his hand. The look of pain that flashed over his face was heart breaking. “Ross, maybe it’s not… He’s not definitely…”

Ross’ voice was rough, his eyes filled with unshed tears, and he sounded utterly broken. “Yes he is Trott.”

\---

It was two weeks after the fire, two weeks after the cornerstone of their group had disappeared. Two weeks since the last video had been recorded. Of course, some things like Cornerstone and Hat Corp were still put out, but not by Trott and Ross. Colin had been loaded with all the editing, the mere sound of Smith enough to make the two men fall apart again. As a result the entire building felt dead. No longer was the HatFilms room full of shouting and banter. It was dead, barely used. Behind the scenes Lewis began organizing a memorial. Simon tried to convince the Hats to release a video confirming Smith’s death.

During the day they stayed apart. For the most time Ross sat with Kim in the common room, his face buried in her neck as she stroked his hair, not saying anything, just letting him take comfort in her silence. Trott buried himself in work, taking on all editing he could. He started with Flux Buddies, then moved on to YogLabs and Evicted, working all hours until he fell asleep on the job. When he wasn’t working he gamed, endless rounds of Dota and WOW to take his mind of the grim reality he was facing. 

Yet at night, the two men took comfort in each other, whispered words and gentle caresses passing between them as they sought to heal the pain. Ross had almost permanently moved into Chris’ room, unwilling to let him out of his sight for even a moment. The sudden shift in their friendship dynamic bringing them closer and forcing them to see the reality they’d ignored. They truly, deeply loved each other, and Smith had gone before they’d gotten to tell him. They cried then, at the unfairness of it all. How he’d left without knowing they loved him.

They were all in the common room when Turps came back from Ibiza. “Hey hey hey!” He grinned round the room, his voice booming around the room. Surprised at the lack of response, he smiled, a pun on the tip of his tongue. “Hey! Who died?” With a sinking heart Trott realized he hadn’t been told. Ross burst into tears and Kim wrapped her arms round him with a sigh.

Lewis shoved his face in his hands. “Jesus Christ, Turps!” Simon grabbed him and pulled Turps out of the room, presumably to break the news. Lewis glanced back over the room, continuing with the conversation Turps had interrupted. “Lilies or roses?”

\---

Late at night, the day before the memorial, the radio crackled. “We have a report on the Surrey fire next.” Kim shifted on her sofa, begging for good news. “No more survivors have been found after the forest fire in Surrey. The last man dug from the remains…” Kim sighed at the flicker of hope she once again quelled, yet turned the radio up anyway.

“Of the forest has been identified as Alex Smith. He briefly reached consciousness earlier, after two and a half weeks in hospital in a coma, asking for Trott and Ross. We are attempting to find these people. If you have any idea who this man could be, please come down to Surrey Hospital.”

A grin spread across Kim’s face. “Well, shit. Looks like he made it out of there after all.” She grabbed her phone, ringing up Trott, but not getting an answer. Kim grabbed her car keys, quickly driving round to the flat and knocking on the door. No one answered. “For fucks sake…” She clambered back into her car, pulling up the sat-nav and punching in the address of Surrey’s main hospital.

\---

It was a three weeks after the fire. Ross and Chris were in suits standing in the city hall, hands tightly clasped. A sea of faces greeted them, the front row filled with Yogs and Smith’s family. Only Kim was absent, due to unknown reasons. Ross almost thought he saw her walk in through the door silently, but put it down to the tears clouding his vision. Vases of flowers were everywhere. A daft picture of Smiffy in a banana costume was projected onto a screen behind them.

They spoke together, reminiscing over the past, all of the silly thing Smith had done. That foam beard video that had gone viral. That time he ate a tub of month old cream for a tenner. When they did the block and load challenge and he set the warehouse on fire. Kanye bear. How much he loved airsoft. How he only seemed to wear burgundy tops and tan chinos. The little things he did that made him himself, the little things that irritated them but they loved them anyway. They loved him. And they never told him. 

Through blurred eyes he scanned over the crowd. Ross’ heart stuttered when he saw a familiar tall figure at the back of the hall. He wiped his eyes, sure he was imagining him He nudged Trott, pointing to the back of the hall. Trott cut off mid-flow. “Fucking hell…”

Suddenly the ground was racing and the two of them were down the other end of the hall, their legs aching from the run they couldn’t recall, barreling into a familiar strong pair of arms, hearing that unforgettable laugh in their ears. There were tears and laughs and kisses. Many, many of kisses. Kisses that tasted of pain and joy and soot and love. Smith’s story could wait. All that mattered in that moment was now.

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on tumblr? We have cookies!  
> everytimeidosomethingstupid.tumblr.com


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